It is poorly to be physical Yet not to be physical must be greater Poor, not to see the sea rolling Nor the sky unfolding Cloud on cloud as wind waggles Heart is head and hand With which we speak some sound Who knows what it means As we fall down again Just by telling what happened before The air swarms with it The heart burns in it Into the distance of what we feel The detail of what we see and hear Collects And mounts the ladder of our Conceptual confusions Which one stalk of what is there To hold, to have In the end of our desiring Look to yourself Put a finger there If you can Twist the dial and manipulate The broom singularly around the floor Listening to this he circumscribed himself As if he could become at last at least Wholly him

Norman gives his third talk on the Pesach Intensive 2015 to Makor Or.Norman Fischer, 03/17/15

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